


cross your heart to take me when you leave

by theheadgirl



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, Facebook: The Pen15 is Mightier, Gen, Ghosts, Halloween, Identity Reveal, Implied/Referenced Suicide, London, Murder, Past Miraculous Holders, Spooky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-24 03:36:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21092750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theheadgirl/pseuds/theheadgirl
Summary: Many people have held the Ladybug and Black Cat Miraculouses.Not all of them survive it.





	cross your heart to take me when you leave

What do you wear on a ghost tour? Comfortable shoes are a must, but what about the rest of it? Especially one in October, in London. The spookiest month in one of the most haunted cities in the world - it has to be just right. 

"You're not making me late for my ghost tour!" Alya says from the other bed. "Fifteen minutes and you're out the door in whatever you're wearing." She eyes Marinette's current outfit of a tank top and underwear. "And I mean _ whatever_."

Marinette squeaks. "Yes, ma'am!"

Fifteen minutes later, the alarm on Alya's phone goes off, and she sticks her head out of the bathroom. "You better be ready, girl."

Mildly panicked, Marinette holds her arms out to display her chosen outfit. "Is it okay?"

She's opted for a black, scoop-necked dress with long sleeves that flare a little at the wrist, black tights, and black ankle boots. In her hand is her jacket, dark green with gold military-style buttons down the front.

"Spooky," Alya declares. She grabs her best friend's hand and tugs her out of the room. "Nino and the others are downstairs, let's go!"

As soon as the elevator doors open on the lobby, Alya hurries out and flings herself into her fiance's arms. Nino is clearly delighted and bundles her into an embrace.

"So the real reason you're having a joint bachelor and bachelorette weekend is because you're codependent, not to save money," Kim cracks. Alix smirks.

"Little bit of Column A, little bit of Column B," Nino replies with a grin. Keeping an arm around Alya, he jerks his head to the door. "Adrien's got the cab. Let's go."

Adrien waves as the group approaches, stepping out of the way of the open back door of the van. 

"You look really nice, Marinette," he tells her as she steps into the van. Despite years of friendship tamping down the bonfire of her crush into much more manageable embers, she still feels her cheeks go hot.

"Thanks. I wanted to look spooky."

He laughs. "The spookiest of them all!"

Alya catches her eye and gives her a discreet thumbs-up. Marinette just shakes her head at her friend and settles into her seat next to Alix. 

The cab drops them outside a pub where a young man in a Victorian evening suit waits outside. Standing still amongst the hustle and bustle of the crowd, one could almost believe he could be a specter himself. 

Alya checks the reservation on her phone. "Are you Colin?"

He detaches himself from the wall and steps forward, holding out a hand to her. "A pleasure to meet you in person, Ms. Cesaire. This must be your fiancé?" 

"This is Nino," Alya confirms, and the two men shake hands as well. 

Introductions go around the circle, with Colin repeating each name as though to lock it into his memory. 

"If everyone's ready," he says, gesturing grandly, "we'll get started here. This is said to be one of the most haunted pubs in London. The White Hart was founded in 1638 by George Kendrick, and misfortune followed him as readily as you'll be following me tonight. Within a year of opening, the White Hart burned. Although the outside was salvaged, the inside was completely destroyed, and two of the staff died in the inferno.

"It took nearly two years to rebuild the Hart, and during the rebuilding, workers reported footsteps in empty rooms, voices they didn't recognize, and strange cold spots. The strange occurrences didn't end once the pub re-opened, either. It seemed that at least once a week, a patron would flee the bar in terror, claiming he heard someone whisper his name directly into his ear - and of course, there was no one there.

"By the time the White Hart finished its first decade of operation, it had witnessed countless fights, mostly ending with the fighters being thrown out, but two ended fatally.

"The White Hart's most famous resident, though, is the beautiful Poppy Stone." He gestures them closer, pointing through the window. They can see through to the bar where the bartender is checking his phone, then looks away to tend to a customer. Behind him is a mirror that reflects the entire bar. Marinette looks in the mirror, half-expecting to see the ethereal figure of a girl drifting through the people drinking and watching football.

"Poppy worked as a barmaid here in the 1860s. By all reports, she was a bright light, bringing joy to everyone who came to the bar. She was seeing a young man, and she loved him very much.

"That is … until she came across a very nasty surprise at work one day." Colin pauses dramatically, lowering his voice. "Follow me." He turns, the tails of his jacket fluttering behind him, and strides towards the entrance of the bar. The group follows him in, and the noise and light inside the bar are a shock after the dark and cold outside. 

"Cheers, Col," the bartender calls. "Taking them to see Poppy?"

"Cheers, Rahul," Colin replies with a grin. "How's she been this week?"

"Quiet. Maybe she'll come out to say hi to you." 

They go through the bar and Colin opens a door marked "EMPLOYEES ONLY." It leads to a dark staircase and pitch blackness beyond. Colin reaches for a light switch and clicks it on, and a single overhead light ignites. "This way."

Alya and Marinette exchange nervous looks and Alya gestures for the boys to go down the stairs first. Kim scoffs and strides down the stairs behind Colin without a trace of fear. The rest follow, the stairs creaking under their weight. 

Colin brings them to the middle of the basement, and the door closes behind them with a decisive _ clunk_. Marinette looks back and swallows hard.

"It was a normal shift," Colin continues, his voice lower now. "Poppy was talking with the patrons and laughing. She'd seen her boyfriend, Jonas, come through earlier, but hadn't thought much of it since he would usually stop by to say hello when she was working. But then she came down here - to the basement - to get more beer.

"That's when she saw it. Jonas, half-naked, having another girl up against the wall. Another barmaid, in fact; one Poppy considered a friend. It seemed that Deirdre wasn't as close to Poppy as she'd thought. Poppy screamed in horror and ran out of the room in tears. Jonas tried to pursue her, but he couldn't find her."

Colin goes silent for a long moment. "The next morning, the owner of the White Hart came in to open up. He came down to the basement and found Poppy, hanged, right there." He points to the spot between them. "She'd come back after the bar had closed, overcome with grief, and ended it all. She was twenty-four years old."

Alya screams. "Something touched me!" She looks down. "Marinette! Your hands are freezing!"

"I'm scared!" Marinette squeaks, not relinquishing her death grip on Alya's hand. 

Tension broken, Adrien starts laughing, and it's so infectious that even Marinette lets out a little giggle. 

"That's the tragedy of Poppy Stone," Colin says. "And that's just the beginning of our tour. Let's go." 

Colin takes them to a graveyard attached to an old church, another bar, an innocuous street corner, and tells them the spine-tingling tales associated with each one. 

As they approach the next stop, Marinette feels something - strange. It's a tightening in her chest, a strange sick feeling of dread. She glances at Alya to see if she feels it too, but the other girl is wide-eyed and eager. She looks to her left, and to her surprise, Adrien is looking back at her, and she can't miss the concern written in those green eyes.

"This is one of the strangest stories I get to tell," Colin says, "and truly mysterious." He gestures at a beautiful stone building behind them. The lights from the first floor paint a yellow square onto the sidewalk. "When this was built in the 1790s, it was a private residence for the Gladstone family. Theodore Gladstone was a Scottish financier who moved to London with his wife and two children to expand his business. The Gladstone children, Oliver and Jennifer, were fairly young when they first arrived in London, and they were raised in its high society. 

"The two children seem to have thrived in London society, growing and flourishing into young adults." He pauses, then steps up the stairs, towards the front door. They crowd up the stairs behind him, although Marinette's heart is pounding harder with every step, and she's surprised to feel a thin sheen of sweat on her forehead, despite the cool of the night. 

Colin stops at the door. "The Gladstone residence was sold in the 1830s. It passed through multiple families before becoming the Gladstone Hotel that you see now in the 1960s."

"Why did they sell?" Alix asks.

Colin cocks a brow. "Follow me and find out." He opens the door and leads them into the lobby of the hotel. Airy and grand, with a large chandelier hanging overhead, it oozes old glamour.

"Evening, Colin," says the young woman behind the desk.

"Evening, Kath," Colin replies with a flash of a grin. He gestures them into a room off of the lobby. Marinette freezes at the door.

_DON'T!_

It seems like every nerve is screaming for her to get as far away from the room as possible. Dread seeps out in tendrils from the room, and Marinette has the wild thought that if she goes in there, she won't be coming back out.

"Marinette?" she hears Alya say, but it sounds like she's a million miles away.

"I can't," Marinette whispers. "You go - " She barely chokes out the words before she turns tail and runs out of the hotel.

"Is she okay?" Colin asks.

Alya looks after her, eyebrows furrowed. "I think so, but I -"

"I'll go check on her," Adrien says, a little too quickly for it to be an entirely spur-of-the-moment suggestion. "Be right back." He hurries out, too.

"We'll continue, then," Colin says. He leads Nino, Alya, Alix, and Kim into the room off of the lobby. There's couches and chairs arranged around low couches, and a fireplace waits for its flames. The group sits on one of the couches, and Colin stands before them, hands folded behind his back.

"Scandal hit the Gladstone family hard in 1815," Colin continues. He gestures around the room. "Theodore had built a successful business and a beautiful home that he hoped to pass on to his son, Oliver. By the age of twenty-three, Oliver was engaged to another daughter of London's high society, Helen Kingsley. They were set to be married in December 1815. 

"But then, tragedy struck. On this very night, October 19, 1815, there was a commotion in this room. Shouting. Scuffling. Things breaking. People tried to get in, but the door was locked from the inside.

"Then, a scream. The police report from the night says witnesses described it as 'blood-curdling.' Finally, there was a gunshot. By the time the door was forced open, they found Oliver, dead of a self-inflicted gunshot to the head, and in his arms was his fiancée's best friend, Lydia Cunningham, also dead. Stranger still was that no one could determine a cause of death for Lydia. One moment she was a healthy young woman, the next she simply … stopped.

"The Gladstones returned to Glasgow shortly after Oliver's death. Theodore's wife, Mary, died two months later, on what would have been her son's wedding day. Theodore threw himself into his work and, while he was successful, they said he was never happy again. Jennifer, the youngest daughter, inherited the house in London after her father's death in 1835. She didn't want anything to do with it, so she sold it to a family friend who didn't mind the sordid history of the place. 

"Since then, there have been multiple sightings of a woman in white. She seems to be looking for something, or someone. People have also seen a young man throughout the building, and whenever he appears, people's belongings tend to vanish and reappear elsewhere in the building. There are footsteps in empty rooms, and guests will try to sit in what seems to be an unoccupied chair, only to encounter a blast of cold air. People have also reported hearing the sounds of a fight in this room, as though Lydia and Oliver are reliving their last moments, over and over again."

From the street, breaking the otherwise quiet night, someone screams.

Outside, Marinette pulls her jacket closer. Although the night isn't any chillier than it has been, she can't seem to get warm. Just being so close to the house still fills her with dread. 

"Marinette?" 

Adrien comes down the front stairs, hands in the pockets of his overcoat. "Are you okay? You kinda ran out of there."

Marinette nods. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just got kind of overwhelmed." She looks away, presses a hand to her chest as though it might alleviate some of the pressure there. 

"I understand. It's been a grim night." Adrien comes to stand next to her. "That place gives me a spooky vibe, too."

Marinette smiles, and hopes that it doesn't look too much like a grimace. "I'm glad to know I'm not the only wimp."

She turns back to look at the house, and her heart freezes in her chest. Standing at the front window, staring back at her, is a young woman. Her hair moves around her as though in a gentle breeze, and her eyes are as dark as endless pits. Slowly, without breaking eye contact, she lifts her hand and touches her ears, one at a time, then presses her hand to the window.

Marinette screams. Adrien turns to her and she points to the window, her hand shaking out of her control. Adrien looks and gasps, taking a step back. His hand shoots out for a moment, the silver of his ring catching in the streetlight.

"You see her?" Marinette demands. 

"I saw him," Adrien answers, breathless. He brings his hand back to clutch at the collar of his jacket.

"Him?"

Adrien nods. "There, at the window. He was staring at me and he placed his hand on the glass."

"On the glass," Marinette says at the same time. 

Alya comes bursting out of the front door of the hotel, Nino on her heels. "Marinette? Are you okay? Did you scream?" She runs to Marinette and embraces her.

"I did, I'm sorry," Marinette says. She gratefully returns Alya's hug, and knows she can feel that she's trembling from head to foot. "I thought I saw something in the window."

"What did you see?" Colin asks. 

"A woman all in white," Marinette says. "She was standing at the window and staring at me."

"Ah! Brilliant!" Colin whips out his phone and snaps a picture of the front window. "You're all right?"

Marinette nods. 

"Are you up to continue?" 

"Yes. Thanks."

"Good. We've only got a couple of stops left." He gestures for the group to follow him. As they walk away from the old Gladstone home, Marinette feels the tightness in her chest unwinding with each step. Luckily, the remaining stops at a restaurant, another hotel, and an old office building, are much less exciting. The tour wraps up around nine o'clock and Colin thanks them heartily for coming with him. 

"Let's get a picture," he says, and gestures for them to crowd together. He holds up his phone and snaps a picture, then hands them each a card. "That'll be on our Facebook and Instagram feeds within the next few days. Marinette, I hope you'll write about your experience on the Facebook page! People love to hear about brushes with the supernatural." 

He waves goodbye and steps lightly off into the London night. 

"Let's go to a pub," Nino suggests. "Maybe we'll find another haunted one!"

  


It's nearly eleven-thirty when Alya suggests they start to another pub. 

"I think I'm gonna head back to the hotel," Marinette says. "I'm tired."

"We've barely gotten started!" Alix protests. 

"Then you all have fun," Marinette says, waving her off. "I'll be okay."

Alya frowns. "If you're gonna insist, I guess. I'd feel more comfortable if someone went with you."

"I'll go," Adrien offers. "I'll meet up with you guys after I've made sure Marinette gets home okay."

"Thanks, dude," Nino says, clapping Adrien on the shoulder. "See you later. I'll drop a pin where we go."

Marinette and Adrien say their goodbyes to the group and step back out into the chilly October night. 

"Do you want to walk a bit?" Adrien asks. "It's a nice night."

"That sounds nice, thanks," Marinette says. She puts her hands into the pockets of her jacket and they start off into the night. 

"How are you enjoying London?"

"It's a lot better than the last time we were here. Although I'm a little disappointed we won't be getting so up close and personal with Big Ben this time."

Adrien laughs. "Yeah, I don't think that's a standard part of the Parliament tours."

"Have you been here before? Aside from our school trip, I mean?"

Adrien shakes his head. "For some reason, my father never wants to go to London. Gabriel shows at London Fashion Week, but Father always sends someone in his stead, and he's never let me go. I'm surprised he let me go this time."

"You're an adult," Marinette says, surprised. "He really would have told you no?"

"He's just really protective," Adrien says with a shrug. "Even now. I think when Mom …" He trails off, looking sad. Marinette reaches out and places a hand on his arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. Adrien smiles a little and puts his hand on top of hers. Marinette feels a flutter through her chest and smiles back at him. 

The blocks go by, and it's not until a sudden, familiar tightness rises in her chest that Marinette realizes where they are.

"We're back at the Gladstone," she says. Her eyes cut to the front window, but there's no one there. 

"You're right," Adrien says. He looks at the window, then back to Marinette. "Do you … wanna go in?"

"Yeah," Marinette says. It feels like it's pulled out of her, because she has no reason to want to go in, but she does. It's irresistible. "Let's go."

Adrien leads the way up the stairs to the front door, and pushes it open. Marinette follows, and the feeling in her chest grows and grows.

At this time of night, the lobby is empty, the front desk unmanned. Marinette looks at the door leading to the lobby. 

_Come here_.

It's the exact opposite of how it had almost pushed her away earlier. Now, it feels seductive, those same tendrils wrapping gently around her wrists and ankles and pulling her in. If she goes in, there's still a chance she doesn't come out… but now, it's a risk she's willing to take.

She steps into the lounge, Adrien at her heels. Something white rushes towards her, and she barely has a chance to open her mouth to scream before cold envelops her and everything goes black. 

_ London spreads out before her. Gas lamps flicker along the streets, lighting the carriages and pedestrians hurrying home. She is alone on the rooftop, watching, waiting. Her gloved fingers curl around her yo-yo, ready to deploy it at a moment's notice. _

_The Black Cat always strikes around this time, and she's been watching him, studying his patterns. If she's right - and she's sure she is - he'll be showing up any minute now. _

_Footsteps behind her. She whirls, hand on her yo-yo. He smirks, leaning on his baton like it's a cane. In his all-black evening suit, face hidden behind his black mask, he almost looks handsome - if he weren't such a scoundrel. _

_"Waiting for someone, Madam Bug?" _

_Her eyes narrow behind the mask. "Good evening, Sir Cat. Who were you off to pillage tonight?"_

_"Pillage!" he says with faux shock, pressing a hand to his chest. "The lady treats me like a pirate! I prefer to think of it as _ relief_."_

_"Relief," she echoes skeptically._

_"Yes, relief! I relieve the rich of knickknacks they won't miss, then I relieve the pawnbrokers of their heavy purses in exchange for those trinkets."_

_ Ladybug scoffs. "It ends here, Sir Cat. I'm _ relieving _you of your Miraculous and ending your reign of mischief." _

_ "Oh, we can't have that," Black Cat says, taking a step back. _

_ She smiles then, and she doesn't miss the way his eyes light at the wicked darkness in it. "I was hoping you'd say that." She shoots her yo-yo out to wrap around him, but he easily deflects with his baton. _

_ "Looks like the game is on, Madam Bug," he says with that infuriating grin. He taps the back of his hand against his brow in a mock salute, then takes a step backwards and drops off the roof. _

_Ladybug's eyes narrow. _Not so fast, Sir Cat. 

_She takes off after him, yo-yo whipping out to latch around this cornice or that buttress, always right on his tail. When she comes close enough to catch him, her yo-yo flies, wrapping around his wrist. She tugs at it, yanking him off-balance, and he stumbles._

_ "Is this the end of the line?" she asks. _

_ He shakes his head. "This cat has nine lives." With a dramatic flick of his wrist, he untangles the string holding him there. Ladybug reels the yo-yo back and sends it out again, but Black Cat takes off a second before she can grab him again. _

_ Over the rooftops they run, and the neighborhoods below grow more and more familiar. Black Cat vanishes down, and Ladybug follows, dropping into a crouch to see where he went. _

_ There - casual as you please, lifting the large front window of one of the townhouses, then sliding through as though he belongs there. Her heart skips a beat as she realizes it's a house she recognizes, with inhabitants that mean a great deal to her. Before he can close the window, she slides in too, closing and locking the window behind her. _

_ "How dare you come here," she bites out. _

_ "How dare I?" he laughs. "This man could use some relief from all of these worldly goods, I expect." He picks up an intricately decorated box. "Do you think I'll get a fair price for this at the pawnbroker's?"_

_ Instead of answering, Ladybug drops down and sweeps at his legs with a kick. She catches his ankle and he stumbles, the box in his hands dropping. She catches it with ease and holds it away from him. _

_ "I think you'll finally get the justice you've been evading all this time," she says. _

_ He tilts his head, then his eyes narrow behind the black mask. The air seems to shift, and he jumps for her. She parries his blows, but he backs her against a shelf, and the impact sends a teapot on spindly legs to the floor. In the moment where she looks away, he darts towards the locked window. _

_ "CATACLYSM!"_

_ "NO!" _

_ Without a thought, Ladybug tumbles to him, leaping to her feet, placing herself between him and his escape route. _

_ He can't stop - he's moving too fast. His horrified eyes seem to belong to someone entirely separate from his hand, burning with fatal energy. _

_ It lands squarely on the bare skin above the collar of her red-and-black spotted gown. _

_ He sees the light in those green eyes go out. _

_ He sees the mask begin to dissolve. _

_ He sees the face underneath the mask. _

_ "LYDIA!" _

_ A thousand moments crowd into Black Cat's head - Lydia laughing at a joke he's just told. Catching his eye across a crowded ballroom and a small smile meant just for him. A brilliant spot on a grey day with her pink umbrella. Waving to him from Helen's carriage on a ride in the park. _

_ A single, stolen kiss in a dark hallway the night before his engagement party to Helen. Her fingers ghosting across his cheek before she'd turned and walked away, her knuckles white around her fan. Opening the door to the salon, her figure silhouetted in the light pouring out. _

_ He'd waited for her to turn back, to look at him one last time. _

_ She wouldn't. He knew she never would. _

_ Lydia. _

_ Ladybug. _

_ He catches her as she falls. In his arms, her body feels as light as a feather. _

_ "Lydia!" He shakes her, wild, knowing it won't work but desperate to try something, anything, so her eyes will open again and her lips will twitch upwards like she doesn't want to laugh at his joke but - _

_ A tiny red being appears, coughing, and flies to her Chosen. _

_ "Lydia!" _

_ The kwami's huge blue eyes turn to Black Cat, accusing, then the whole scene swims out of focus as he blinks, tears spilling hot down his cheeks. _

_ "Plagg, claws in." _

_ As soon as the transformation drops, he yanks the ring off and throws it onto the floor, hearing it clatter across the floor. Himself once again, Oliver clutches Lydia to him, body wracked with sobs. _

_ Slowly, he looks up, and his eyes land on his father's gun, mounted on the wall. He sets Lydia down, careful, and rises to his feet. _

_ "Oliver," he hears Plagg say, as though at a far distance, "what are you doing, kid?" _

_ Oliver curls his fingers around the stock of the gun. He breathes in, and feels a chilling calm envelop him. _

_"Take the Miraculous and get out of here," he tells Plagg, not taking his eyes off of Lydia. "I don't want you to see this." _

_ By the time the servants manage to break down the door to the Gladstones' parlor, it's far, far too late. _

The eyes open, but the person looking out of them is not Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She moves her head from side to side, stretches her fingers like it's something she isn't used to doing anymore. She touches her earlobe, smiles at the familiar feel of the small stud earrings.

She looks up. The man staring back at her isn't him, but it's him all the same. 

"Oliver?"

"Lydia." His voice breaks. 

"You were the Black Cat." It's not a question. 

"And you were Ladybug."

"You - " Lydia touches her chest, like she can still feel it. "You killed me. You used your Cataclysm on me."

"I know.” Oliver wipes his eyes, then looks back to her. “I don’t expect you to forgive me. I can’t forgive myself.” 

Lydia turns away. “You had all of this,” she says, extending her arms to encompass the room. “Why were you using the Miraculous to steal? Why wasn’t this enough?”

“I don’t have a reason,” Oliver says. He doesn’t dare take a step towards her, but his arms ache with her absence. “I was bored, and foolish. I wanted excitement, and taking little things that people wouldn’t miss brought it to me. I wanted - “ He cuts himself off.

She turns. “You wanted what?”

His eyes meet hers. “You know, precisely.”

“Still?”

“Why do you think I spent -” he gestures, helplessly - “however long it’s been in this bloody parlor? I couldn’t leave. Not until you knew.” 

"Helen?"

"I loved her, but … I loved you, too." He draws in a breath that shakes. "When I saw your face behind the mask, when I realized what I had done - I knew I couldn't live with myself. Not after taking down London's greatest defender in a moment of foolish panic." Hesitantly, he reaches out, brushes a finger along her jawline. She inhales, half surprised, half pleased. "And the woman I loved."

"Oliver." It's almost a prayer.

He wraps his arms around her and pulls her close. Although it doesn't feel quite right - the heights, the width of her shoulders are different - the warmth of her and the way she fits into his arms is just right. 

"I love you, too," she whispers into his chest. 

Oliver pulls back just enough to look into her eyes, then leans down and presses his mouth to Lydia's in a firm, searing kiss. Her fingers curl into his hair, holding him in place, and the kiss rapidly becomes more passionate, bodies pressing closer and closer together. 

Oliver breaks the kiss and rests his forehead against hers. "Ready to go home, Madam Bug?"

"I've never been more ready, Sir Cat." She arches up and kisses him again, and a diaphanous mist rises in the room, lifting skyward until it's gone, leaving nothing behind except two people still kissing.

Adrien pulls back in shock, and Marinette jerks away so sharply she loses her balance and barely catches herself on the arm of a divan. For a moment, they stare at each other in shocked silence, almost unable to comprehend what just transpired. 

"Were we … possessed?" Adrien asks finally.

Marinette nods. "I think so."

"And that's why you couldn't stand to come in here earlier," he continues, and the look she sends him is full of terror, begging him not to have made the connections he did - the same ones she's made. "Because she died in here. She died while wearing the Ladybug Miraculous. And you …"

"Same for you," Marinette says. "You saw him in the window. He was calling to you because he felt the Black Cat Miraculous." Her eyes go to the silver ring on his hand. She's never paid it any mind. "How long?"

"About as long as you, I'd bet." His voice catches slightly, and she looks back at his face. To her surprise, he's starting to smile, and it looks like he can't hold it back. "Milady."

That confirms it beyond the shadow of a doubt, to her. Hearing that nickname from Adrien Agreste, and realizing with a shock how much his voice sounds like Chat Noir's. 

"Kitty." 

Adrien starts laughing. "It's you. Of _ course _it's you. You're our everyday Ladybug, aren't you?"

"Are you - " She isn't sure how to take his reaction. Is he being sarcastic, or genuine? 

"I'm so glad," he assures her, grinning from ear to ear. "Honestly, I couldn't be happier." 

Despite herself, Marinette believes him. Those green eyes don't lie, and the joy in them is real. She gives him a hesitant smile in return.

"What a way to find out, though," Adrien adds. "Whenever I imagined it, I always pictured Ladybug declaring that her life was a CAT-astrophe without me in it, and she needed her kitty in all aspects of her life, and she was des-PURR-ately in love with me."

Marinette has to bite back a laugh. If she hadn't been absolutely convinced Chat Noir was standing in front of her before, that did it. 

"You imagined this before? Who did you picture under the mask?"

Adrien's cheeks pink, and he ducks his head. "I think it was always you."

Marinette's heart swells, and she impulsively stretches up to press a kiss to Adrien's cheek. He smells nice, and his skin is soft under her lips.

"Ladybug just kissed me," Adrien says with a delighted grin. "I can't wait to write about _that _in my journal tonight."

Marinette laughs. "Let's get back to the hotel. We've got a lot to talk about, and I don't know how long the others are going to be out."

Without thinking, she holds her hand out to him. Then she realizes it's not Ladybug reaching out to Chat Noir, it's Marinette reaching out to Adrien. Before she can withdraw it, he grabs it eagerly, twining his fingers with hers.

"Let's go, Bugaboo."

"You're still not allowed to call me that."

He squeezes her hand, and they step into the dark London night, together. 

**Author's Note:**

> Halloween is my favorite time of year, and I'm so happy that I had the perfect excuse to combine some of my favorite things: Ladybug, ghosts, and doomed lovers. Honestly, I'm kind of obsessed with Madam Bug and Sir Cat now - they may pop up again later! Happy hauntings!


End file.
